


Testing. Testing. Sound Check.

by relenafanel



Series: Let's go steal a... [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Awkwardness, Con Artists, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, leather pants, music industry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relenafanel/pseuds/relenafanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Steve knows his part,” Sam says, helping Bucky tug up the leather pants he’s wearing as part of his costume.  It’s painfully hot in the back of the van they’ve both been sitting in for 4 hours, and the pants aren’t going on as easily as they had during dress rehearsal.  The fact that a room full of incredibly smart people who don and shed personas easier than they hold personal conversations hadn’t considered the heat a factor is suspicious to Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing. Testing. Sound Check.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [tumblr prompt](http://relenafanel.tumblr.com/post/128288964303/stucky-leverage-au-bucky-flirting-with-steve) from Brenda.

“Steve knows his part,” Sam says, helping Bucky tug up the leather pants he’s wearing as part of his costume.  It’s painfully hot in the back of the van they’ve both been sitting in for 4 hours, and the pants aren’t going on as easily as they had during dress rehearsal.  The fact that a room full of incredibly smart people who don and shed personas easier than they hold personal conversations hadn’t considered the heat a factor is suspicious to Bucky.  He tries to remember who had suggested the pants and comes up blank, which hints to it being a deliberate suggestion on Natasha’s part, but the others are just as capable if they put their minds to something.  He also wonders if this is payback for him, or if it’s targeted at Sam.  
  
Sam.  It has to be Sam.  
  
Or maybe both of them.  That narrows down whose fault this is by - it doesn’t narrow it down at all.  It’s not that he works with a bunch of passive aggressive people who shy away from being vocal when something bothers them, it’s that there seems to be an undercurrent of trolling that bonds them as friends.  Bucky wants to be included in that.  
  
Except when he doesn’t.

Except during situations like this one, where he has one hand braced on the roof of the van and Sam Wilson kneeling in front of him trying to lever a pair of leather pants up over Bucky's sweaty thighs.  This is not a good situation for either of them.  
  
“I never wanted my hand to get this close to your junk,” Sam says, echoing the sentiment Bucky is thinking.  He gives a vicious pull on the pants and they move up another fraction of an inch.  "How big was your lunch?“  
  
“Fuck off,” Bucky gripes, slapping away Sam’s hands.  He loops his fingers through the belt loops and starts shimmying.  It doesn’t work - the fact that it doesn’t work is the main reason Sam tried to give him a hand in the first place.  Sam starts tugging at the material at thigh level, trying to give Bucky a bit of leeway to drag them up another fraction of an inch.   “We need talc.”  
  
“We’ve got…” Sam considers the interior of the van.  "Crumbs from a box of animal crackers.“

  
"Fuck off,” Bucky repeats with slightly more alarm.    
  
No.  
  
There is no way that those crumbs are getting anywhere close to his skin.  He hopes there's a better option, because they are running out of time and there are a lot of things he will do to make sure Steve Rogers doesn't crash and burn, and animal crackers aren't even the worst of it.  
  
“Aaaaannnddd,” Sam continues, looking around.  "Your war paint.“  
  
They both look at the tin of eye black Bucky uses when he’s in full thief-in-the-night attire dubiously. Bucky is about to be firm and say no, but he can hear Steve over the comms and it’s getting dangerously close to Bucky’s mark to enter the con. No one has prepared Steve for what happens if Bucky doesn’t make his entrance on time.  Improv? Not Steve’s forte.  "It’s got grease on the label for a reason,” Bucky points out in his best brave face.  "Just do it.“  
  
"Oookaaay,” Sam agrees slowly, though his hand is quick as it retrieves the tube.   He doesn’t ask if Bucky is sure, but the way he winces as he gets a glob on his fingers speaks for both of them.  This is not going to be an experience they willingly bring up any time soon.   
  
x.x.x.  
  
This is the con:  
The mark is an exec for a major recording label that is funneling a percentage of sales from their top talents into Hydra pockets.  Steve’s job is to sell himself as a representative from an industry competitor, and Bucky as their next star.  

Natasha, with the help of the mysterious Mr. Jarvis, managed to create such a solid online presence for Bucky’s cover that he gets stopped twice on his way to the stage to sign autographs for strangers.  He doesn't think they've been planted in the crowd, but it's impossible to tell when it's Natasha planning his level of exposure.  He walks towards the stage, and for a moment feels the power of the act.  There aren't open curtains, but there are bright lights, a microphone, and a piano and drum-set from the house band, kindly left in place for visiting talent.  He feels, for a moment, like this could have been his life if he hadn't instead started stealing at a young age.

He has a MySpace.  He has a YouTube account.  
  
He has a pair of leather pants riding up his ass.  
  
When Bucky steps on stage in front of a sold-out crowd, not exactly a bragging point in a room that can hold about 200 people, he gets a few cat-calls (one he’s sure is Peggy planted in the audience), a smattering of applause, and the quiet semi-hush of anticipation as people give him the span of a few seconds worth of attention to prove himself to them. The videos and covers strategically placed online gave him solid guitar skills, and Bucky learned how to fake his way through a set list that will play as he stands on stage hoping the bright lights and cheap fog machine will cover up the fact he isn’t doing much more than the right fingering.  His own guitar skills are limited to ironically learning how to play Wonderwall back before it was a major meme and instead was just considered a joke, because there is nothing nefarious about a street guitarist who plays Wonderwall.  He cased three businesses successfully in the span of two years using that ruse.  
  
Steve is staring up at him in surprise, his eyes dragging down Bucky’s front and taking in his appearance.  For a moment he looks like he’s been struck over the head with it, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.   It’s a heady feeling to have a room full of people stare at him, when the weight of Steve’s gaze is the only one that matters.  It's not that he doesn't know that Steve finds him attractive.  The knowledge was easier when Bucky had been a thief and Steve had been his mark, and some days it feels regrettable that the only time they ever kissed was when Bucky was robbing him.

He gives the audience a sultry expression, playing up what he knows his assets are.  If his eyes meet Steve's for longer than necessary as he tilts his chin as a dare, then that's just part of his act.  
  
Bucky adjusts his guitar and waits for his cue to start pretending to play.  
  
Nothing.    
  
“Uh,” Mr. Jarvis says in Bucky’s ear, the drawn-out vowels and intonation sound incongruous with his British accent, and Bucky makes another mental note that will eventually lead to the man’s identity. He doesn't like relying so heavily on someone he only knows by voice, and a voice he's sure has been expertly modulated.  Bucky likes to have the opportunity to look people in the eye. "So.  It’s playing on my end.“  
  
The people in the club are no longer silently paying attention to him and Bucky knows his few moments to prove his worth are over as the conversation starts up again.  
  
"Stall,” Natasha says and manages to sound cool, despite the fact everything is crumbling around them.  "I’ll go check that we’re still plugged in.“  
  
"Play something, Barnes,” Mr. Jarvis recommends.    
  
_So anyway, here’s Wonderwall_ , flits through Bucky’s head in a moment of absolute sardonicism.  The thing is.  The. Thing. Is. they all know the story.  They all know that Bucky can only actually play one song on a guitar and which one it is, and he’s sure that one of them thought that it would be hilarious to witness him playing it in public.  It makes him grit his teeth, because now is _not the time_ for a harmless prank.

It's not harmless.  
  
“Fuck all of you,” he hisses, and the words are picked up by the microphone fitted over his head.  The damn thing is supposed to be off, and he ends up scowling at his audience as they all look towards him.  At least one person in his earpiece is laughing, and Bucky has a number of other choice words he keeps to himself in the hopes this situation is still redeemable.  Steve is staring at him, standing next to a man who looks far too normal to be an evil Hydra henchman.  There’s a look on Steve’s face like he knows that in a moment he’s going to have to come up with something outside of their set plan, and that it isn’t going to go well.  
  
Steve is the absolute worst at being put on the spot.  They all joke that he has to work on his improv skills, but the truth about Steve is that all the practice in the world won’t stop him from challenging a mark to a back-alley fight if he doesn’t have a mission set in place, if he’s left flapping in the breeze and not following a strategic plan (that he had a hand coming up with).  Bucky has seen it happen.  There’s a certain beauty in it, even if it’s terrible for the end result they need.  
  
_Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you_  goes through Bucky’s head, mocking him, and the way he sees it, he has two choices.  He can play Wonderwall or he can throw away the guitar entirely.  
  
He chooses the second.  "I know you came here to hear me play guitar,“ he says into his mic, dropping the guitar on stage.  "But truth is that isn’t what I’m best at.”  
  
“I hope it’s not stand-up comedy,” Sam observes in Bucky’s ear.  
  
There are certain secrets Bucky Barnes keeps to himself, things so private or sacred that he doesn’t share them with anyone.  But there’s something about the expression of absolute terror that flashes across Steve’s face, just for a second, that prompts Bucky into moving.  This is the first time they’ve come this close to getting a leg up on Hydra in months, and disrupting their finances could be the crack they need to really gain a foothold against the organization.   Steve is counting on Bucky to be impressive enough that Hydra signs him immediately, and he’s already blown it.  
  
So while there are certain secrets Bucky keeps to himself, it isn’t a difficult decision to take a seat in front of the piano.  Bucky would do anything for Steve, even if all he’s doing is sharing a piece of himself with an audience, just so Steve doesn’t spend the rest of the evening torturing himself over another failure.  
  
“What’s happening?” Mr. Jarvis questions the moment Bucky’s fingers begin to dance over the keys.  "We didn’t record the piano.“  
  
"It’s not a recording,” Natasha answers, and Bucky ignores her because he can't say for sure that she's acting convincingly surprised.

x.x.x.  
  
The pants, Bucky considers, are not worth the kind of effort and personal horror he put into getting them on.  His ass looks great, sure, but his ass always looks fantastic, even in the $25 skinny jeans from H&M he had on for his last job. The pants creak when he walks, and his thighs and ass feel slippery from the grease he and Sam hurriedly used to pull them up, and honestly his balls feel like they’re in soup.  It’s incredibly uncomfortable, and now that he’s done performing, he wishes he could just peel them off and shower.  The con itself is far from over, and the next step in Bucky’s role is approaching quickly.  He doesn’t even have time to stick paper towel down his back to soak up some of the sweat making everything slick and gross, and once again he curses whoever came up with the idea of leather pants in the first place.  
  
He knows that there must be a visual he doesn’t personally see the moment he stands from the piano bench to more catcalls and whistles than his playing deserves.  There’s a heady feeling of knowing that the applause he’s receiving isn’t part of the ruse but because of his own talent, and it’s far stronger than the pride he usually feels after successfully stealing something from somewhere considered impenetrable.  Public acknowledgement of his skills is a dangerous thing for Bucky to begin to appreciate, but however much the crowd enjoys him, it pales in comparison to how Steve had looked at him on that stage, appreciating the way Bucky’s fingers moved over the keys as though the songs he chose to play were easy.  Steve looked at him like Bucky had surprised and delighted him, like Bucky was wonderful and amazing, and the best thing he’d ever seen.    
  
Bucky doesn’t need public acknowledgement of his skills, but Steve’s?  Steve appreciating him is a feeling he could quickly become addicted to.  
  
Bucky can lie easily to other people, but he makes it a habit not to lie to himself.  He understands why he did everything he just had for Steve, why he gave up one of the last real pieces there is to Bucky Barnes to a con.  He understands why Steve’s approval matters more than the applause from other 199 people in the room.  
  
Bucky is fucked.

Bucky was fucked the first moment Steve pushed himself into his hotel room, a pithy quip on his lips as he filled Bucky in on who he was and what he needed Bucky's help with.  Thinking of Steve as Pinstripe was one of the last moments Bucky only needed to consider one person in his life and that person was himself.  
  
“There he is!” Steve’s voice booms in the space backstage as he flashes a VIP card to Sam acting as security.  "My virtuoso! What a surprise! Piano as well as guitar?  Get your pen ready, are you prepared to sign with us?  Wait til you see the numbers we're willing to offer you!“  
  
Bucky turns, a fake smile on his lips as he greets Steve, raising his eyebrow as Sam stops the Hydra lackey from gaining entrance.  "I can offer you a much more lucrative deal,” he calls into the room, voice cutting over Steve’s.    
  
“Let him in,” Bucky nods at Sam, and smiles, because no matter how many times a plan falls into place, there’s always a moment where everything connects together, where success is imminent, and Bucky, in that moment, takes just a second to enjoy it before squaring his shoulders and getting back to work. Steve is solid next to him, warm, still playing his role easily, and Bucky can't bring himself to regret anything.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come tumblr with me](http://relenafanel.tumblr.com/)


End file.
